XI - Lust

Ride the lion of life, oh ride him,
the joy's roar -
momentous air -
feel the surge and power
of flanks between your thighs,
the moving ground,
the flying mane, jerking tail,
and holding on for dear life,
holding -
stomach churning, seat is sore,
the living pelt of the thing
beneath your hand rippling
as his muscles tear,
his grin as he looks round,
takes you here, there, nowhere,
unknown fears clamp the tongue,
but holding on for dear life,
holding -
see him run,
the bounding back of him
bruising you -
lion of life,
lion of joy, beast
bright as sun
and twice as dangerous. 
The Book of The Scribe
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